Evanescence
by Beautiful Taboo
Summary: All Gokudera wanted to believe was that if he had been there a minute earlier, they could have fallen in love. 1859


**Warning:** MAJOR character death. If that's not your thing, please do move on to another story!

Written for iu_fanfiction WC #36. 5. Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is. Also, thank you so much to my wonderful beta who is made of pure epic and awesomesauce, Milky Etoile, through the Imagination: Unleashed Beta Nook.

By the way, I'm thinking of permanently moving to AO3 (neko11lover). However, since I haven't decided yet, I'll probably keep cross-posting here.

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><p><strong>Evanescence<strong>

_Footfalls echo in the memory  
>Down the passage which we did not take<br>Towards the door we never opened_  
>T.S. Eliot<p>

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><p>Gokudera surveys the bay area with a slow, sweeping glance. There are bodies – <em>too many of them<em> – and they cover the ground like a field of red poppies over scattered shadows of torn, black business suits. He walks over them, surprising himself with how calm he's taking all this, with his hands in his pockets, and his lit cigarette sitting halfway-burnt between his pale lips. The place now smells of smoke, blood and the sea.

Almost without warning, he stops in the middle of the mess. Blankly, his green eyes focus on one poppy among the rest, and the first thing Gokudera thinks at that moment is, _He's dead_, followed by a gratuitous "Fuck!" and a low groan. He raises an arm, signaling the movement of a small group of armed men in suits and medics. Including Gokudera, they're the ones who received the call for back-up. They arrived a few minutes too late.

They gather around him, and Gokudera watches unblinkingly as they pick the mangled body up slowly and cautiously before they put it on the stretcher. The corpse is Hibari's.

He watches as they try to avoid looking at it and he wonders why they're still so scared of him, when he's already dead. Did he leave that much of an impression? The body is unmoving, obviously beyond saving. There is no sign of breathing, either. A sniffle from the group makes him snap out of his thoughts. Gokudera then realizes that it isn't fear; it's grief.

He stands like that for what seems like a long time, staring. Fresh blood is still coming out near the forehead area, his lips are cut in various places, and his eyes are partially closed and blank. Lifeless. He is gripping his tonfas tightly, and Gokudera reaches out to take them before rigor mortis sets in. Almost perversely, it's like he's committing the sight to memory. He then slides his palm over the eyelids to close them, before he runs the heel of his hand against the forehead, to brush the damp hair away. He sees the gunshot wound, a black hole in the middle of a pool of red and flesh. He closes his eyes and he starts breathing slowly.

"Shit." He pulls his hand away, and takes a long drag from his cigarette, before he looks at one of the medics. "Take him away. The clean-up team should be coming soon." He pauses, and gives Hibari another glance. "Don't tell the Tenth. Yet."

When they leave, Gokudera slumps onto the floor on all fours, and throws up. Almost immediately, he takes out his phone and punches a desperate message.

_hibari is dead_, he types, _shot in the head, that retarded piece of shit_

He doesn't send it to anyone, and deletes the whole thing to type something else.

_going straight home,_ his new message says,_ sending report thru email. will talk to tenth soon._ He presses SEND.

Yamamoto's reply comes almost instantly. _hibari?_

Gokudera turns off his phone and stands up. Without sparing the newly-arrived cleanup team a glance, he makes his way back to his car and drives himself home.

X

It's three days after Hibari's death and Gokudera still feels as if everything is unreal.

Hibari just isn't the person Gokudera could imagine _dead_. He seemed _invincible_, like nothing could take him down, like he had something _different _from the rest of them. He always felt like those warnings they gave him about going out on missions alone were nothing but mere formalities because at the back of their heads, they knew that if it was Hibari, then it'd be okay.

Right now, the idea still can't settle. Every time he passes by Hibari's office, he feels like he'd see him there, sitting on his rotating chair, reading paperwork with his blank face, or drinking tea as he stared at whatever view he had outside his window. Every turn Gokudera makes in the Vongola Headquarters make him remember memories he can never even recall having, like seeing Hibari drink coffee in the cafeteria, or listening to Hibari talk to Tsuna in hushed tones during those necessary meetings, or smelling Hibari's scent in the lounge – all of which were places and events the Cloud Guardian never really involved himself with. Whenever somone knocked on his door, Gokudera would look up, half-expecting Hibari to be there.

(It doesn't help that the last person to talk to him before this was Hibari.

He passed by Gokudera's office right before the assignment to tell him that he shouldn't interfere unless he called for him. His eyes and expression were as steely as ever, and even Hibird's presence on his head didn't help one bit.

"Don't interfere," he said, his voice firm. "Or I'll bite you to death."

"Wouldn't come even if you begged me," Gokudera muttered, as he watched Hibari leave. "Asshole."

Of course, he didn't mean it back then.

But he still regretted it.)

At the moment, Gokudera is in his office, finalizing some more paperwork. The past few days have been quiet, almost as if nothing happened. _Fucking hilarious, really_, he thinks. He's about to reach out for another page from his 'To Do' pile when someone knocks on his door, and enters.

"Kusakabe decided to take custody of Hibird."

It's Sasagawa Ryohei. Gokudera notes silently that he isn't in his loud mood. In fact, the older man looks rather pensive. He isn't surprised. They just came from Hibari's funeral. Even _he_ was still in his funeral clothes, too busy to change out of them.

"Just thought you'd be interested to know."

"Did Tenth tell you to come here?" Gokudera asks tiredly, dropping his pen on the table and leaning against the chair's backrest. He then massages his forehead with a hand, and loosens his black tie with another. "Look, I'm _fine_."

Ryohei runs his hand through his short, cropped hair. He looks tired, but he's smiling. A sorry attempt at being comforting.

"Sawada _did_ send me, but I'll still be coming here even if he didn't." Ryohei walks up to his table and stares at his face. "Have you been eating properly?"

"_Christ,_ Lawnhead." Gokudera rolls his eyes. "I'm twenty-_fucking_-three. Get off my desk, and let me get back to work." He reaches out to get his pen again, and Ryohei suddenly grabs his hand.

"It isn't your fault, Gokudera."

Gokudera tries to retract his hand, and succeeds. He rubs his wrist, as he says with an even voice, "I was on duty with him."

"That doesn't make you accountable for it! We all didn't want him to-"

"We _didn't_," Gokudera replied, his tone making Ryohei wince, "but I let it happen."

There is a sudden meeting of narrowed eyes and frustrated looks. Gokudera had explained himself before, both to Tsuna and Yamamoto. He doesn't see the point of explaining it again and hearing the same old speech. For once, Gokudera feels like asking Ryohei to go back to his usual loud, retarded self, talk about boxing or his wife, and not _this_.

"Thanks," Gokudera mutters, picking up his pen again, "for taking care of the bird."

"No problem."

In the end, Ryohei leaves him alone, but not before giving him a firm pat on the head, and parting words in the form of, "Don't be too hard on yourself, Gokudera," and, "Contact me if anything goes wrong."

He doesn't say anything as he watches Ryohei close the door to his office, because now, he's looking at some sort of gossamer apparition of Hibari standing right next to his doorframe and staring right into him, looking as unreal and as alive as he had always been.

X

A few days back, Gokudera had volunteered to empty Hibari's house. The job will involve flying to Japan, packing Hibari's things and looking for important documents, and maybe even a will. This was, of course, met with a few concerned looks, but it helped that the Vongola had its hands full with revenge (Tsuna refuses to use that word, still, but they all know that it's true and they all know that they're going to make it happen), and that Tsuna made Gokudera go on a forced week off, mostly out of concern.

Hibari's house is, to Gokudera's surprise, relatively smaller than the huge traditional house he was expecting. The house only contains four rooms, created by well-maintained _fusuma_, excluding the kitchen and bathroom extensions. Two of the rooms are bedrooms, and the other two are the living-cum-dining room and a training room, which takes up the largest space. The house is surrounded by a bare backyard, with a few potted plants, weeds and a Japanese camellia tree in front of Hibari's bedroom window.

Right now, Gokudera, in a sleeveless working shirt and with a bandanna tied around his ponytailed hair, is standing immobile and scowling in the middle of Hibari's bedroom. Like the rest of the rooms, this one is almost empty, as well, save for a calligraphy table, a bookshelf crammed with books on various subjects (_Italian for Beginners_ cues a quirk of an eyebrow), a small, open bird cage, and a small cabinet, around two feet in height, next to it.

Around him lay the Cloud Guardian's things, supposedly untouched (except for his futons; Gokudera had emptied the _oshiire_ that morning). Everything's immaculate, all in order. There is no clutter, no mess, and all it has is the feeling of Hibari's presence, like the scent of heavy perfume lingering in a room, taking its time to leave.

Gokudera walks over the small cabinet and sits in front of it. He pries it open without much effort, and watches in surprise as a small avalanche of papers falls out. The documents are all carefully grouped by paperclips according to use (as Gokudera will find out a day later), with some even yellowing in age. What catches Gokudera's attention, however, is a small notebook, and his eyes widen when he realizes what it is.

The notebook is a scrapbook of sorts, with pictures taped on every page – two per page and separated by an inch-wide margin, front and back – starting from childhood. It's a project from grade school, Gokudera notes based on the title page, and he smiles a little when he discovers that the pictures go on until high school graduation.

That moment makes Gokudera remember that Hibari has no other pictures in the house – no frames, no scattered Polaroids, not even a picture for a shrine – _nothing_. Now, he realizes that he doesn't know Hibari at all, if he has – had – a family, who he grew up with, who he really was, and if, all this time, he had been alone.

He runs his finger over one of the pictures, that of the whole Discipline Committee in their student room, during Hibari's graduation (Gokudera sees the white camellia flower near Hibari's chest and thinks, _'Cheap little prick'_). Hibari is standing in the middle, as formal as the rest, staring at the camera placidly, almost as if he doesn't belong. He turns the page, and his eyes rest on the next picture, taken during Tsuna's formal inauguration as the Tenth Vongola Boss. Hibari stands there straight, a hand to his chest, fingering his lapel. He is standing apart from them, possibly not aware that his picture's being taken, and if not for the drunken Shamal handling the camera, he probably wouldn't even be included. Hibari's eyes in the picture are slightly downcast and half-lidded, and his bangs almost touching the crest between his eyebrows and the rest of his forehead. There is a ghost of a smile on his face.

Gokudera has never associated Hibari with the word 'beautiful' before, but at that moment, all he can think about is that he is. It's ironic, really, because Gokudera doubts if Hibari gave a fuck about physical appearances. Even when they went on assignments together, it never took Hibari more than fifteen minutes to prepare and he never looked into mirrors unless he was driving, or unless it was necessary in battle.

What's more ironic, though, is that Gokudera's having all these realizations, when it doesn't even matter anymore. Didn't someone say that you only realize that how important something is right when it's taken away?

(Gokudera is, all of a sudden, back in middle school.

Hibari approached him out of nowhere. He was wearing a high school uniform – a set including a beige blazer and a pair of similarly colored pants – a sight Gokudera found strange because he was used to seeing him with his gakuran draped over his shoulders. Hibird was still perched on his head, though.

"– your name?" he asks almost quietly, his voice deep and resonant.

Gokudera, young and stupid and easily offended, replied, "Gokudera Hayato, Tenth's _right-hand man,_ you senile bastard." He turned to face his upperclassman almost arrogantly. "The fuck do you want?"

Unceremoniously, Hibari handed him a camellia flower for his chest, and walked away.

Back then, Gokudera thought that he was giving them out.

Now, he realizes that Hibari's not the type to give out flowers, and that no one else wore camellias on their chests that day.)

For the next few hours, Gokudera lies there on the floor (the contents of the cabinet ignored, his job still unfinished) with the photograph of himself during middle school graduation lying on his chest and his eyes fixed onto the ceiling, thinking that maybe, it's possible to fall in love with someone who's already dead.

X

It's 11 in the morning, and Gokudera's still in bed. He's on a voluntary leave now, not because he wants to escape, but because he's down with one hell of a cold.

Yamamoto is sitting by the side of the bed, all smiles, as if Gokudera getting sick is the most amusing thing he's ever seen, and he's been there since three or four hours ago, asking what Gokudera wants to eat or watch or drink or do. Now, he's trying to sit still, especially after Gokudera just yelled "I don't want a fucking foot massage so shut the fuck up and get out of my house!" so loud that he actually ended up in a coughing fit bad enough to make him ask for Yamamoto's help to get him back to the bed.

The room has been silent for an hour now.

"It's going to be okay," Yamamoto suddenly says, his smile turning a notch sadder. He looks at Gokudera, his eyes sincere. "It's going to be okay, Gokudera." His laugh is soft, like rain pattering on soft ground.

Gokudera doesn't even need to ask.

He wonders what he should tell Yamamoto; should he tell him about the dreams? About how he sees Hibari there, dying over and over, telling him 'I don't need you to come,' or 'Stay there' so Gokudera can watch as a bullet slowly penetrates his skull? How about the memories? The ones so vivid that he can actually see Hibari _everywhere_, making him doubt if they're real. How about that insufferable itch sprouting from the scars where Gokudera got broken? Or how about that _ache_ that just _won't_ go away?

He just doesn't know how to do this, how to put his feelings into words, or into actions, and he knows that he shouldn't even be considering telling Yamamoto any of this because Yamamoto isn't the one who needs to hear, and the one who does isn't coming back anymore.

"Maybe I'm lonely." When he realizes the weight of his words, he blushes, and turns to Yamamoto, panicking, part of the bedsheets twisted around his fists. "I mean, no, I had- since that time, I really don't- fuck, I never even _knew_ him that well, so how could I- _shit._" He buries his face in his hands. "Shit."

Yamamoto is sympathetic, but he can be a little stupid.

He says, "We miss him, too, Gokudera."

"This is _different_."

If that line made Yamamoto realize something, he does a good job of pretending not to know.

"We'll always be here," he tells Gokudera, his voice soft and comforting, like the warm towel slipping off of Gokudera's forehead.

"No," Gokudera replies, letting the towel fall on the floor. "You won't."

(Gokudera remembers the first time he went on an assignment with Hibari.

"What if you _die_?" Gokudera demanded, after Hibari declared his desire to do it alone. It was Hibari's first time on a mission after college graduation, and Gokudera _always_ came with the first-timers. Mostly because he was experienced.

"I won't," Hibari replied, his tone clipped. "And it's not your concern."

"Tenth would be-"

"—_don't_." Hibari was staring at him, as if waiting for _something_, before he turned away and headed for the door. "Don't. I find that irrelevant.")

All of a sudden, the silence chokes Gokudera, like ropes knotting itself around his throat, his lungs, his _heart. _His voice breaks a little as he tells Yamamoto, "I never meant for it to be like this."

It's the closest Gokudera gets to an apology-

- and maybe, a confession.

X

Eventually, time passes.

The grief dulls into something _static_, something that's just there, looming over him like a great shadow. Gokudera acknowledges it, but he doesn't let it take him completely. It isn't even painful anymore, just... _empty_. Still, he can't afford to remain broken, and he picks himself up and puts all the pieces back together.

"There's the fax machine, you know," Tsuna says, an almost-chiding smile on his lips. "You didn't have to walk to the other end of the office just to hand me the reports personally." He puts the papers down on his desk and focuses his eyes onto Gokudera. His hands are folded on top of the oak, and his sitting is prim and straight. There's a strength behind his medium frame, and Gokudera feels an overwhelming sense of respect.

"It's fine, Boss," he says. "I just wanted to stretch my legs."

"You're," he begins, and the pause that follows tells Gokudera that he's being cautious, "you're alright now, aren't you?"

Gokudera nods a 'yes', along with a "Never been better" under his breath.

Tsuna continues, still choosing his words carefully. "You've done a good job clearing out Hibari's house. We've forwarded the documents to Haru's office and we haven't cleared most of the, ah, legalities involved." He leans back onto his swivel chair, and he clasps his hands together. "Of course, it took us some time, seeing as the documents were so blunt that it was hard for them – and us – to understand what they meant, ironically enough. But."

"But what?"

"We're sure of one thing." Tsuna unclasps his hand to open his desk's first drawer. "In fact, I was about to give it to you the first chance I got. I didn't expect it to be now, though." He takes out a package wrapped in manila paper, and he slides it towards Gokudera. "This came in this morning."

Gokudera takes the package in his hands and stares at it. It's light and small, about the size of a ring box.

"It was found deposited in Hibari's personal account, and Haru managed to reclaim it after taking the proper measures. A clear part in Hibari's will states that you are to have that package." Tsuna smiles as he watches Gokudera shake his head in disbelief. "The rest of his documents involve his bigger properties, most of which are to be donated to Namimori. Some to the Vongola, surprisingly enough. However, they still need to be clarified..."

Tsuna's voice drops down to nothing but silence. When Gokudera finally manages to stop his hands from shaking, he carefully tears the manila paper open. And he stares.

Tsuna tilts his head curiously.

"What is it?"

"Camellia seeds," Gokudera replies. "He had white ones growing in his house." _And he gave me one during Graduation. _He looks up to find Tsuna smiling at him warmly.

"In Chinese tradition," Tsuna says with a small voice, "camellia flowers show everlasting devotion and protection. I think." He pauses again, as he watches Gokudera's eyes soften. "It's a beautiful flower, isn't it?"

(Before he left that day, after their small argument, Hibari stopped by the door. He turned a little, just enough for Gokudera to see that he was looking at him.

"Later." His tone was clipped, and now that Gokudera's looking back at it, it felt like there was something different about it. Like he was holding something back. His eyes, however, were still as steely and cold as when he first went in Gokudera's office. "We need to talk."

Gokudera, by then, had decided to start working again. His eyes were on his papers now, and his hand on a calculator.

"Yeah," he replied, his mind already somewhere else, "so don't die on me, Hibari.")

Gokudera wonders what that talk could have been. Perhaps, it was supposed to be a confession. Then again, Gokudera doubts that. He knows that Hibari will never be the type to admit to a weakness, and he, himself, is the same. It was probably some sort of complain about Hibari's fatality reports, and how he needed to reimburse some damages caused for civilians.

Thus the question is brought up: Is it possible to lose something you've never had? At that moment, all Gokudera wanted to believe was that if he had been there a minute earlier, they _could have_ fallen in love. But he wasn't there, and they didn't.

Still, none of that matters now.

"Well. I suppose I have to hand it to him." Gokudera smiles, his eyes on the box sitting on his palm. He closes his hand over it, before he pushes it into his pocket. "The bastard had _class_."

After that, he excuses himself for the rest of the day, and Tsuna asks no further questions.

He has some gardening to do.

**owari**

_Will appreciate any sort of feedback!_


End file.
